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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972423">(always) finding my way to you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherealight/pseuds/etherealight'>etherealight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>At the start at least, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pro Volleyball Player Bokuto Koutarou, Sad Bokuto Koutarou, no beta we die like men, slight angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:20:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,356</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972423</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherealight/pseuds/etherealight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost everybody has seen Bokuto Koutarou in one of his dejected modes, but only one person truly gets to see him break down.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>202</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>(always) finding my way to you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sound of the ball hitting the floor echoes loudly in the vast training court.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto can see droplets of sweat lining the ground, another proof of the hard day’s work aside from his aching, sore muscles. Lungs on fire and skin almost too hot to the touch, every breath feels like it's punching its way out of his body, desperate for release. In a game where victory depends on how fast his feet could leave the ground, each step and jump feels like a matter between life and death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This isn’t particularly new to Bokuto, though. Being part of a professional volleyball team only promises that every practice meant rigorous training; a routine that he currently finds himself in with the MSBY Jackals for what feels like hours now, it seems, if time still exists inside the court. He always loses a certain awareness of reality once the first serve is up, everything else but the game in front of him coming to a stop. Bokuto looks around and notices his teammates’ heaving chests and sweat soaked jerseys, maybe he isn’t the only one almost at his limit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But of course, to an outsider, Bokuto would have looked like he might only be a little worn out at the edges. Just a bit out of breath, maybe. From their perspective, a minute or two of rest might be enough for him to somehow recharge. After all, he’s still standing with perfect composure, his chest puffed out as if challenging the opposing team to give it their all; his voice ever so cheerful as he commends Hinata’s perfect receive and whines at Atsumu for giving the ball to another spiker instead of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would’ve been great if Bokuto is </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> tired. A simple exhaustion of the body. Physically drained to the point of not knowing whether his legs will give in at any minute; joints protesting at their coach’s decision to continue on with the training.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That type of weariness will be kinder in comparison to the one he’s been feeling these past few days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fatigue that comes from the ground up has wormed its way into his feet, making each step that he takes a difficult battle all on its own. A quiet yet determined restlessness settling in his whole body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A discomfort where the world suddenly feels a little too overwhelming, as if it has walls which abruptly decided to close down on him. An unwelcome intrusion when all Bokuto wants is for his usual energy to fill him up more than ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s also not to say that he's a stranger to exhaustion that seemingly springs its way out of nowhere and threatens to choke every bit of cheerfulness out of him. After all, he has experienced even worse during the most troubling times of his life—the first time he ever saw his mother cry from heartbreak, the trainings spent during middle school looking behind his shoulder expecting to see his teammates only to be met with empty space, and in the quiet afternoon walk he took all alone after his high school graduation; just him and the tightening feeling in his chest, borne out of the stubborn unwillingness to say goodbye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What is it that they always say about how the happiest person can also be the saddest in the confines of their own room? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto feels like he’s trapped in his right now—alone and lost despite knowing where he is, and all the more frustrated because he can’t seem to pinpoint what’s even upsetting him in the first place. Maybe it’s really just one of those days; moments when nothing makes sense and suddenly you find yourself just crying from the sheer mundanity of it all—heartache, nostalgia, sadness, goodbyes, or what it must feel like to be a balloon floating aimlessly, untethered to the world it was previously tied to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He might always be the most cheerful and energetic person in the room, but at the end of the day that was who Bokuto ever was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, Bokuto needs to remember that more than anyone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ringing sound from their coach’s whistle signalling the end of their practice anchors him back to the unsteady ground he is currently on. He immediately heads for the showers after the cool down, saying a hasty yet still cheerful goodbye to his teammates; hands waving enthusiastically as if everything is right in his world. It’s weird how he can openly frown and look dejected whenever he’s having his short mood swings on court, but in moments when he’s hurting the most? He suddenly can’t get rid of the smile plastered on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The afternoon sun is still high up in the sky when Bokuto steps outside, its warm glow turning everything it touches golden. He gets into his car with no particular destination in mind, trying to leave the nagging feeling in the distance he puts between himself and the training center. But it truly only takes him a few minutes of driving with the radio off for Bokuto to know that he’s making his way down familiar highways and streets to the one person who knows him best. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t help but laugh in spite of himself, nothing has changed much, really. He’s still the same Bokuto whose body, whenever he feels run down, goes on auto-pilot and takes him where he wants to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Akaashi. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi who only needs to take a look at him to be able to know that something is terribly wrong; from the brewing erratic mood swings during their high school days to the overwhelming emptiness that grips Bokuto’s whole being once in a while. In some days, he can’t help but think that Akaashi was born into the world with a manual about him on hand because for some reason, he just </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not just in the matches and how he prefers the ball to be set, but even in moments off court when his shoulders drop and he feels like a child lost all over again, the world too big and scary in his eyes once more. The best and the worse, the fleeting and the permanent, the petty and the profound—Akaashi knows it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It never fails to amaze Bokuto whenever he thinks of the fact that even though they’re now off chasing different dreams—Akaashi as a magazine editor and him as a professional volleyball player—it never really changes how they view each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s still Akaashi’s face that pops into Bokuto’s mind whenever he lands the ball on the other side of the court with a perfect spike, excited to hear about what the other boy will think. And in quiet times, in between the clatter of movement, Bokuto still catches Akaashi staring at him, eyes shining as if illuminated by starlight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After half an hour of driving, he pulls in front of a grocery store just a few distance away from Akaashi's apartment complex. Although he particularly has dinner in mind, he goes around the aisles picking out more items than they might need knowing that the other boy will be too tired to go out and get groceries himself. The action itself borders more as an act of devotion borne out of love than a simple chore that he needs to do in order to attain the necessities required to keep on existing. Somehow, whenever Akaashi is involved, the lines always blur between simply breathing </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> living; and Bokuto has realized that he loves being caught in the fray that always tips to the latter. How can something as mundane as buying groceries even seem like an act of pure devotion? The thought brings a small smile out of his face even as he was picking up soy sauce from the shelf. It must've been the first real smile he cracked the whole day, if he thinks about it. Being with the other boy has always felt like an outpour of miracles, and Bokuto is far from complaining. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he was satisfied with his finds, certain that he didn't forget to pick up Akaashi's favorite chips, Bokuto checks out of the store and drives the remaining distance to Akaashi's place. The air is colder when he steps out of his car and Bokuto takes the flight of stairs up to Akaashi’s floor, groceries in both hands. He can see his breath tingling in the night air as he fishes for the key out of his pockets, remembering Akaashi’s stern warning that if he loses his copy of the key one </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> time he just won’t let him in ever again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows Akaashi won’t actually push through with his threat, but he tucks the key back into the safety of his pockets carefully anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto pushes the door and is greeted with darkness, the lack of movement within the apartment reminding him of how he dropped Akaashi off at his editor’s workplace the past week.</span><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I'm sorry this is so sudden,” Akaashi turned back to him in the passenger's seat, eyes filled with regret as if it’s his fault that their boss requested they all work together in the main office just for a week to reach their deadline. The hand that was holding the door handle a minute ago now back on his lap. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Akaashi really is too adorable for Bokuto’s peace of mind and his eyes couldn’t help but drift down to his pouting lips, enough to tempt Bokuto into wanting to kiss him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Get yourself together, he chastised himself. As much as he wants to spend the whole day just kissing his boyfriend, they actually have responsibilities.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Akaashiii!" his voice, pleading and reprimanding at the same time, rang in the small space. "You just want me to give you another kiss and I've given you hundreds already. You're gonna be late!" </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Oh so that's how it is huh.. Bokuto-san is tired of kissing me.." Akaashi crossed his arms and looked out of the window, his voice bordering on dejected and playful at the same time.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bokuto reached for him, warm hand gently curling at the nape of his neck as he pulled him closer. He stared into Akaashi’s eyes, blue and green clashing together in perfect harmony; his other hand tangling in his soft hair. All he needed to do was lean in just a little bit and he would already feel his lips on his.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"You know that's the farthest thing from the truth,” Bokuto replied in a raspy voice and proceeded to close the distance. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Akaashi’s lips were so soft that Bokuto suddenly wondered if it was possible for his knees to never work again just from how weak it became at the sensation of their lips moving together.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Their kiss was so gentle, reminding him of the soft lapping of waves in the shore; a delicate pull and push which only ignited the heat between them. Lips slow dancing to a song that only they can hear; unaware or completely unbothered by the ticking clock. Their hands softly caressed each other’s faces as if it was their first time to let their fingers trace the planes and dips of jaws, brows, and cheeks. Bokuto tips his head slightly to the left, kissing him with something close to reverence which Akaashi responds to in earnest. They both let go at the same time, breaths mingling in the intimate space between them.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It ended way too quickly than Bokuto would’ve liked. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know,” Akaashi replied, still in a trance; his eyes were still closed, forehead pressing against Bokuto’s. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll miss you terribly. Who will I eat dinner with for the whole week?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You say that as if we spend every night together, Kotarou. Besides, you also have your teammates to spend time with.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But I want to hang out with you more!” Bokuto insisted.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Akaashi only chuckled quietly and gave him a quick peck for the last time.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know you’ll survive, Bokuto-san. And don’t get too sad while I’m away, I’ll be back before you know it.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He now only ever calls him that whenever he’s teasing Bokuto. And he did. A lot. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bokuto puffed out his chest and proudly promised, “I’ll do my best!”. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Akaashi’s eyes twinkled and said one last goodbye before reaching for the door and closing it behind him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His hands on the wheel, Bokuto was beaming as he waved at Akaashi’s retreating figure.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiles sadly at the memory now, he really shouldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns on the light and looks around the place. It’s a medium-sized room with a small kitchenette and a balcony connected to the sleeping area. Bokuto decides to fix up what he bought and tidy up the place as best as he can though it was spotless to begin with. He turns his attention to Akaashi’s desk and gathers the journals he knows Akaashi fills with prose written at nights when coffee denies him sleep, but it doesn’t really take him long to stack all of it along with some books in a corner. Akaashi has always been an organized person after all, and Bokuto is aware that trying to keep his hands busy is just his flimsy attempt at distracting himself from the emptiness of the room while he waits for the other boy to arrive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Left with nothing else to do, Bokuto decides to lay down on the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s only when he’s lying on his back that he once again feels the restlessness and exhaustion that he felt earlier come crashing back all of a sudden. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath, going over some breathing exercises to give himself some semblance of calm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slowly opens his eyes again and at the corner of his vision, Bokuto notices the polaroids decorating Akaashi’s walls. One is a group photo of the Fukurodani team after their first practice together. He looks at him from the past, his mouth wide open and hands gesturing wildly at Konoha and Onaga as if in the middle of explaining something as the camera clicked. All the others were looking at the camera with wide smiles save for Akaashi who was looking sideways at him, his calm and quiet demeanor apparent even in photographs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corners of Bokuto's mouth lift in a small smile, remembering the days when he thought that Akaashi couldn’t care less about him; his almost emotionless responses and composed nature mistaken as indifference, but it doesn’t take long for Bokuto to realize that’s just how Akaashi is. He’s usually quiet and calm but Bokuto knows how much he thinks and feels for the others around him; always willing to listen to whatever Bokuto has to say. And it’s not an overstatement that on normal days, Bokuto tends to say</span>
  <em>
    <span> a lot</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes scan the other photos. A selfie of him and Akaashi, his arm draped casually on the other boy’s shoulders. His hair that was usually spiked up was down in the picture and he was holding a big grin on his face, pulling a shy Akaashi closer whose right hand was doing a peace sign almost reluctantly. Bokuto remembers the night it was taken, back at their training camp with Nekoma and Karasuno. Behind them, what looks like a quarreling Kageyama and Hinata was even included in the frame. Looking back, Akaashi and him were just close friends back then, but Bokuto has always felt that there was something special about his bond with Akaashi; something that he only craves specifically with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sudden warmth clenches Bokuto’s heart just as it always does when Akaashi is involved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other polaroids are random shots that Akaashi takes whenever he sees a certain scenario that speaks to him. A dainty bird perched on a tree branch, a bicycle leaning against a storefront, and more pictures of their friends in random poses as Akaashi steals a click with the polaroid he carries with him whenever he can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto also knows that Akaashi sketches the pictures he takes when he gets back home as proven by the countless sketches plastered on the opposite side of the wall. Bokuto feels his cheeks warm despite himself at a realization that he already had months ago: most of the sketches at the walls were of him—in different moods, poses, days, and seasons. A drawing of himself smiling back at him brightly with a volleyball on his hand. One of them is of his face resting on his hands as he steals a sleep at their clubroom, trying to get an ounce of rest before practice begins, and the other one showing him snuggled up in his winter coat outside the gates of Fukurodani. But the biggest is of him looking sideways, neither laughing nor smiling like he usually does; just him, face relaxed and eyes soft at whatever it was that caught his attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks back to every sketch and the memories that come with it. The countless days he spent pestering Akaashi ever since they became teammates. Always requesting for Akaashi to toss the ball again and again for him even after practice ends; never entirely sure what he wanted most—the practice itself or the time they spend alone together in the otherwise serene court as dusk settles in outside. The cool wind swaying over the branches and their skin as the two of them would walk home together after, the back of their hands brushing in every step but neither of them pulling back. Akaashi and his calming voice whenever Bokuto gets into mood swings on court. And how every time Bokuto asks for praises, Akaashi wouldn’t give it to him with words but with a gaze that pierces and reaches his soul, letting Bokuto know that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he is there and he sees him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Awash with memories from the past that leaves warmth in its wake, Bokuto dozes off on the couch without meaning to. His body curled up, a small smile gracing his lips as if he’s dreaming of something particularly pleasant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is how Akaashi finds him, his usual crackle of energy subdued in dreams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The couch shifts under somebody’s weight, pulling Bokuto back to his senses. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and sees Akaashi, clothes slightly rumpled and looking a bit weary. He removes the glasses from his eyes which he started wearing in college. Bokuto can still remember Akaashi’s face then, nose wrinkling and eyes slightly narrowed as he complains to him about how it’s getting harder to see the writings on the board from afar. The memory making its way into the sleep laden haze in his mind, he continues to stare at Akaashi who stretches his arms slowly, careful not to disturb the couch too much as he remains oblivious to Bokuto’s gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets up from his position then, and Akaashi looks sideways at him with a slight raise of his eyebrows in surprise, arms still outstretched in front of him. He smiles apologetically at Bokuto after a yawn escapes his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up” his soft voice greeted him almost shyly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Relief floods Bokuto’s veins in waves, seeing and hearing Akaashi’s voice again after days of missing his presence feels like coming home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can only stare at him for too long before Bokuto throws himself at Akaashi, burying his face on the crook of his neck and clutching at his back tightly; hoping his embrace can convey how much being in his arms makes Bokuto feel safe from the world—even from the welling sadness within him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you so much, Keiji,” Bokuto murmurs in his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi hums in response, sending warm vibrations throughout Bokuto’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you too, Koutarou.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without meaning to, a tear slips from Bokuto’s eyes; slowly making its way down his cheeks as if taking its time to let him prepare for the onslaught of more to come. It’s cold against his skin, raising goosebumps along Bokuto’s spine. Suddenly, tears are free falling from his eyes in waves; an almost violent outpour as if there’s a storm raging inside him, leaving his whole body trembling in its wake. Sobs muffled by bodies pressed tightly together fills the room; his cold tears soaking the shoulders of the boy holding him. Bokuto feels Akaashi's body freeze for a second when his tears first become apparent. He recovers quickly but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he quietly holds him in his arms—the warmth from his body enveloping Bokuto.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart painfully clenches, a mere physical reminder that it’s not done yet. Maybe it’s the constant pressure from being under the bright lights of the court almost everyday, or the sudden fear that maybe his skills won’t be enough—he won’t be enough. But maybe it really is just life being life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A constant battle of staying sane and remembering who you are.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi slowly rocks Bokuto in his arms, long and gentle fingers caressing the top of his head as if saying, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m here now, you don’t have to carry this weight all alone.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile graces his lips despite the tears; the weight, instead of just being carried, is being slowly unloaded. At the end of the day, humans aren’t made to be like Atlas after all, thrust upon to carry the weight of the entire skies on their shoulders for such a long time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s dizzying how the littlest gestures coming from Akaashi can feel like somebody has opened up the windows in his heart to let the sun’s rays flood in. He doesn’t need to verbalize the pain for Akaashi to know exactly what he needs. Away from court, in an apartment complex during a cold night, Akaashi can still bring him back to the game—not that of volleyball, but of life itself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If what they say about souls being made in pairs is true, he’s certain that the one tied to his is already embracing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stay like that for what feels like hours for Bokuto—Akaashi slowly rocking him back and forth in his arms as his cries slowly disappear, replaced by the sea of light cast by the moon in the night sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once his sniffing stops, Bokuto untangles himself from the warmth of Akaashi’s limbs. The heaviness that welled itself in his heart the past days slowly lifting away, a calming buoyancy replacing it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corners of Bokuto’s lips gently turn up, eyes still moist with tears as he finally looks at his best friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to cook dinner with me?” Akaashi smiles back at him, long fingers already tangling itself in Bokuto’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you asked, Akaashi-kun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They cook Bokuto’s favorite food for dinner that night, eating Yakiniku with rice, along with the side dishes that they have prepared. Sitting across each other, they exchange stories of what happened in the week that they weren’t together, Bokuto feeling more and more himself as the night deepens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi shares about the revisions he had to do for the magazine he’s working for. His hands waving in the air as he tries to explain the change of themes that they decided for this month’s issue. Bokuto can’t help but smile as he stares at Akaashi. Not only is he exceptional at Volleyball, but his artistry is also awe inspiring. Underneath all the exhaustion, he knows that Akaashi likes what he’s doing, he wouldn’t stay if it’s not something that brings him happiness. Akaashi has always been the kind of person who is direct and honest with other people, a trait that also applies to him and his own choices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he listens to the boy in front of him, Bokuto can feel butterflies in his stomach as if it’s their first date all over again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Akaashi asks Bokuto about how their practice went, Bokuto enthusiastically tells Akaashi how amazed he is at his teammate’s talents and perseverance; hours of gruelling practice not enough to make them back down. Their discussion suddenly turns nostalgic as they remember their high school volleyball team—all the times they spent at the club room just playing around and the easy camaraderie that they had with their teammates who became their family along the way. They spend the next hours talking about the past and the present; their topics ranging from the mundane—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Akaashi, did you see that orange cat who’s always in front of your building? I want to pet him so badly but he might get scared!</span>
  </em>
  <span>—to the extraordinary—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Have you ever felt like you’ve already lived before and this is already your second life, Koutarou? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Questions that you only really ask in order to put the thought out there, but have no way of answering in certainty; questions you can only ever articulate to yourself or to a lover when it's just the two of you on a quiet night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto thinks for a moment that he wouldn’t mind it one bit if he spends the rest of his life like this too—going home at the end of the day and being able to talk about everything and nothing and all the in betweens with Akaashi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They wash the dishes side by side in comfortable silence; Bokuto washing the plates and Akaashi towelling it dry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The latter suddenly breaks the silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"By the way, I was late to work when you dropped me off."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Akaashii!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" He laughs softly at Bokuto's reprimanding tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You really should stop being so kissable!" Bokuto pouts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi's laugh only gets louder at his response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So are you saying it's entirely my fault?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes," Bokuto replies with no hesitation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But Bokuto that sounds like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> problem not a me problem."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tilts his head slightly to the left, like a curious owl. "Why is that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, you could always not kiss me for a start." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto knows that Akaashi's just teasing him but he lets out an incredulous yelp nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're asking for something impossible!" Bokuto exclaims. "Plus, you like my kisses Keiji, don't even lie."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I do not."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, you do."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, I don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that lying is bad for the skin, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All I know is someone’s making things up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you do like my kisses, Akaashi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nu-uh, Bokuto-san."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of biting into Akaashi’s teasing any longer, Bokuto decides to shut him up with a kiss on the lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi slightly jumps at the sudden contact but it only takes him a heartbeat before his lips are moving against Bokuto’s. The dishes suddenly forgotten, the two of them just stood there kissing each other; Akaashi's arms draped on Bokuto's wide shoulders while Bokuto's hands loosely grip Akaashi's hips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You are such a bad liar, Keiji," he whispers against his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them finish cleaning up, albeit a little later than they would’ve if they haven’t spent a good portion of their time just kissing each other into oblivion. Free time as adults is hard to come by as it is and they don’t plan on sleeping early; with their profession, having the same free day the following morning is already a rare blessing all on its own. That’s why after dinner, they end up cuddling in front of the tv, sharing a blanket together as they laugh their heads off at their favorite shows. Hands never leaving the warmth that each other gives off, always in contact, may it be a lazy finger playing with the other’s hair, an arm casually placed on the other’s thigh, or a head leaning on somebody’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the night air falls into a quiet hush and the loud laughters turn into whispers in the dark, the two of them find themselves in bed, laying on their sides as they stare at each other’s eyes; ankles and legs brushing intimately. Moonlight emanating from the balcony touches Akaashi’s features making him look ethereal. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He really is</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Bokuto thinks. It wouldn’t be far from the truth. Other people like Akaashi just have it the other way around: they come from the skies above and decide to go down to the world to let humans get even a little taste of heaven on earth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi’s eyelashes flutter as if blown gently by the wind, on the verge of being pulled in by sleep. Before he completely loses consciousness, Bokuto whispers in the small space between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keiji?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” he hums in response, eyes still closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” From the bottom of my heart.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Thank you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi’s brows furrow a little but a small smile makes its way onto the corners of his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what, Koutarou?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For your prose and sketches. How you’re always honest, not because you don’t care about others, but because you do care for them so much. Cooking dinner with me even though you’re tired from work. For your embrace. Taking pictures of our teammates in high school in the most random times; during the most candid moments because you’ve always believed they're the most beautiful being their carefree selves. The dedication you have for everything you do. The calmness that you bring. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Your</span>
  </em>
  <span> kisses. And the way you sometimes look at me like we’re the only people in the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hundred reasons run through Bokuto’s mind, but for the first time in his life, his tongue truly fails him; chest clenching almost painfully from the sheer amount of affection that he has for the sleepy boy in front of him. He reaches out to slowly trace his fingers on his cheeks, the sight of Akaashi leaning into his touch as his thumb caresses his smooth skin, undoing him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, he settles for a short yet honest answer nonetheless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For being you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How can words even fully articulate how much you feel for another person, anyway? He’ll just have to show him instead—how much he loves him, and how grateful he feels for each night he gets to spend with Akaashi, for the rest of their lives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto hasn’t fully realized that Akaashi has his eyes open, staring back at him with knowing eyes. Of course he knows that words have failed Bokuto.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here,” Akaashi says, pulling him closer. Bokuto lays his head on Akaashi’s chest, long gentle fingers weaving its way into his hair; a soothing and intimate act that makes his eyes flutter in contentment. Bokuto can stay there forever, nestled in Akaashi’s arms and hearing the steady rhythm of his heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He peeks at Akaashi from his arms and looks at his serene face, lashes once again resting on his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This. The peace that Bokuto gets just by being with Akaashi is enough to make him drive over to his apartment after a particularly shitty week. Or maybe it's not just the peace but the memories captured by the photographs and sketches on the walls surrounding him that pulls Bokuto over. It might also be the fact that from the very first moment Bokuto's lips crashed with Akaashi's, he was already sure that there would be no other person whose lips against his would feel like an epiphany. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto decides then to stop enumerating the reasons why it's always this boy's attention that he seeks. After all, it doesn’t matter if the day was long or short, all that he’s certain of as the sun sets in the horizon is that it’s Akaashi’s arms that he longs to come home to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chests pressed together and legs tangled in each other beneath the sheets, the warmth emanating from both their bodies pulls him deeper into a lull. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is euphoric—the calmness that has settled itself into his bones, the earlier sadness seems like a faded memory from a light years away. He buries his face deeper into Akaashi’s neck, breathing him in and everything that he means to him. Before sleep fully takes Bokuto, he can’t help but think that all it takes is being in Akaashi’s arms to feel like he was tethered to the world once again.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, this is my first fic for Haikyuu!! and I just have so much love for this ship. It's also interesting to explore a sad Bokuto because we mostly get to see him as either this cheerful ray of sunshine or in one of his mood swings on court.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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